I'm Latigo Flint, the greatest quickdraw the world has ever known. I can draw, aim and fire a six-gun faster and straighter than anyone, living or dead. If I had been born 150 years earlier, I'd have been a living god in the American West - but I wasn't, and that's the dern, cursed luck that I have to live with.
Blogger.com has agreed to publish a running journal of my life. I reckon that was mighty kind of them, and I'm much obliged.

Monday, September 25, 2006

The Sturges and the Grinsingtons

Young Brent Sturges lowered his head and refused to take the gun. "No brother." He said. "For too long our two families have been the rivers that fed a lake of blood. But it ends now--it ends with me. I shall kill no more Grinsingtons."

Samuel couldn't believe his ears, this was akin to treason. For four generations there had never been a Sturges boy who refused to kill a Grinsington.

"You'll take this gun!" Samuel Sturges bellowed with all the fury of an orphan.

"I won't." Brent Sturges replied with all the humanity of an orphan.

"You will!" Samuel shrieked, with all the rage of an orphan.

"I'm in love with Emily Grinsington." Brent replied, and brought his hands to his heart to prove it.

Brent couldn't have hit his brother harder if he'd had a sledgehammer to swing. Samuel could only make a confused sound of hurt and betrayal as he slowly slumped to the forest floor.

"Ehhhhghh???"

"I'm sorry brother." Brent whispered. "It just sort of happened."

"In love with a..." Samuel could hardly bring himself to form the word. "In love with a stinkin' Grinsington?!"

"Yes Samuel, a Grinsington. Emily Grinsington to be precise." Brent took his brother's face in his hands. "Hear me Samuel. She may be the progeny of my father's murderer and his father's father's murderer before that, but I love her just the same, and from hatred our love shall deliver us."

Samuel sat up suddenly and the glint of a lie flashed in his eyes."Brent." He hissed. "I just remembered--Emily Grinsington is dead. Yesterday her family beat her to death with a spoon."

"Yes, dear Brent, it's true." Samuel pounced on the opportunity. "Those darn Grinsingtons even kill their own. And Emily died slowly, plinked to death with a spoon."

For Brent the next ten minutes never took place, time passed without his knowledge. His anguish was terrible to behold. His screams scared birds for miles.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Samuel whispered, wrapping an arm around his hysterical brother.

"EEEarrrrrrggghhhhh!" Brent replied. And two miles away a sparrow crapped itself.

"Yes, kill 'em all, that's what I say." Samuel grinned, returning the pistol to Brent’s hand. "Leave no Grinsington alive, wipe them from the land."

Grief-numb, Brent accepted the gun and stumbled toward the Grinsington farm. He crossed the fields where years before, he and Emily secretly played. He crept along the riverbank where he and Emily had nakedly swum. He passed the willow grove where they'd first consummated their love.

And if these memories stirred him, you wouldn't know it to look in his eyes. He walked as if his gun was a kite and the wind blew toward the Grinsingtons.

***

Okay, time out. We need to talk about happy things for a sec, things like kittens in a meadow, 'cause this story is gonna end brutally and young lovers are gonna die.

Okay, so, kittens in a meadow, kittens in a meadow: Jumpity-prance. Bouncedy-purr. Oh, we can't help but be happy when we watch kittens playing in a meadow.

Alright, back to the Blood Feud, already in progress...

***

...and then both sides gave the order to fire and a thunder of guns ripped the canyon in two. Brent and Emily stumbled as one, their limp limbs tangling as they fell. Their red-froth lips found each other and through spasms of hemorrhage, their love they did tell.

On the Sturges side of the river, Samuel stood with a rifle in his hand."You wretched Grinsingtons!!!" He shrieked. "You just killed my brother and his lover!"

"Oh you horrid, horrid Sturgeses." Came a cry from the Grinsington side of the river. "You just killed my daughter and her lover!"

And if either side had half a reason to stop, vengeance swallowed it whole.

Thank you Strange Forces. For my next trick I plan to kill myself with sock puppets and a Slinky.

Correct on both counts Macek.

Thanks Sam. That makes it worth it.

You would Cindy-Lou, you savage. "Don't worry kids, those road kittens are just sleeping... on a bed of guts and a coagulated blood pillow."

You hit them in the head with it LBB, over and over until hairline cracks form that be exploited. Kinda like a soft-boiled egg, except that it takes days, and they scream their throat to pieces long before you're through. It's actually not much fun for all involved.

That's just what they tell dying kids Amandarama.

Try it first on something smaller Rasmus before you tackle a human. You may discover it's a most exhausting method of execution.